Teatime
by Meepyonnee
Summary: Time for tea! Although . . . in the end, they never did drink any. Instead, witnessed by the weeping sky, by the angry booms of thunder and by the furious flashes of lightning, they learned more about each other. -:- One-shot. For, uh, fluff week.


_A/N: So. This is for fluff week. I guess. I wrote it decades ago though. Does it still count..?_

* * *

 **Teatime**

-:-:-:-:-

"Would you like some tea, Naru?"

From the dreary concrete landscape beyond the window before him, he shifted his gaze to the brunette who had just entered the kitchen. She was soaked from head to toe from the rain; she had ignored the morning forecast again.

"I'll do it myself. Would you like a cup?" he asked, turning back to the sink, rinsing off the rest of the silverware he was washing.

"This is new," she said, her tone mocking. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd actually do some chores around here."

He didn't say anything back. The clinking of aluminum against aluminum filled the silence.

"Ah, well, I gotta dry myself up. Good thing I didn't listen to you when you banned me from leaving some extra clothes here at the office, hm?"

Abruptly dropping all the forks and knives in his hands, he turned off the faucet and faced her. "Don't go in the bathroom."

The sky rumbled in the background. "Why not?" she asked.

"I haven't cleaned my mess there yet."

"Gross."

She dropped her sodden bag near the kitchen entrance and flopped over to the counter, beside him. Ignoring his offer to make tea—because his blend of tea was _nasty_ —she tipped on her toes, reached up to take two cups, then took the kettle from below. While she readied the tea, he took the kettle from her and filled it with water, placed it on the stove, and went back to the sink, still rinsing the silverware.

"So," she started, prolonging the word. "How was your trip?"

A sudden flash of light pervaded the room as another rumble escaped the heavens. "I came across something at last," he smiled.

"Oh! You finally found a good vacation spot, huh? Good for you, good for you."

A blank look answered her back.

"Yeah, uh. No. No, then. Not a vacation spot," she laughed nervously.

"No," he echoed.

"What did you find?"

". . . I don't want to tell you."

With an unintelligible scream of frustration, she chocked a cube of sugar at his head. He avoided it easily.

"You're the most annoying boss ever, you know that?"

"You are exceptionally annoying yourself. I'm only keeping things equal," he smirked.

"Come oooooooooon," she whined. "Tell me, please? You never tell me anything about your trips, and here you are now, practically dangling something—"

The kettle whistled at that moment, halting her midsentence. Muttering as she crossed the room, she turned the gas off and poured its contents into the two cups. She took them to the table and sat down noisily, pouting.

"Tell. Me."

His smirk widened at the stubborn frown on her lips. "Fine," he relented. He tore his eyes away from the faucet and buried his gaze deep into hers. "I found what I've been looking for all these years."

"Which is . . ?"

"You."

"M-me?" she sputtered. "But how could you have _found_ me just now, when we've been working together for _years_?"

"Exactly," he smiled for the second time. "That's why it took so long for me to find what I've been looking for."

"What? I don't understand . . ."

"I'll give you a hint," he said. "Remember four years ago?"

". . . Yes. What of it?"

"I found what I had been _initially_ looking for that year."

"Y-you mean your brother?"

"Yes. And I decided to come back after that because . . ?"

At the sound of thunder booming and glass shattering as she knocked the cups to the ground accidentally, she bolted from her seat and ran as fast as she could—away, away, away from him. Just as she was about to open the front door, he was there in a flash, gripping her wrist, pulling her away from her exit. She clawed the hand clamped on hers, kicking and screaming at the man staring at her so intensely.

 _"Because I wanted to find his murderer!"_

He pushed her to the ground and lifted his right fist up high and brought it down viciously—right next to her head. He was holding a knife.

Then suddenly, he stood up, leaving the knife where it stuck on the floorboards, and _laughed_.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he asked himself. "I don't need to do this _again_." He laughed once more.

Seeing that he was distracted, she took the chance and crawled frantically away from him, to the nearest door she saw. Anything to distance herself. Anything to keep him away.

Various trinkets fell from the console table next to the door as she attempted to get herself upright, though her knees kept failing. When at last she reached the knob, she twisted it and threw herself at the door.

Sweet haven, she thought. She got away from him, he wouldn't be able to—

 _Splash_

The sound greeted her as she fell, her head hitting the cold tile floor. She lifted her hand to cradle her brow and found something else already there. Liquid. Thick, sticky liquid. _Blood._

But . . . there was too much. Her head shouldn't have bled as much as _this_

"See, I told you I don't have to do it again," he said, his voice echoing from a distance.

She looked up.

And saw herself— _another_ her—in the midst of red. Mutilated, mangled, maimed.

 _Dead._

* * *

 _A/N: Okay so basically this is an exact representation of how badly I screw up when I try to write 'fluff'. (Still, I had fun writing this.)_

 _On a totally unrelated note... does anyone here watch Steven Universe?!2!?2!? I need someone to cry with_


End file.
